What’s in your pockets?

After coming in from morning chores, I just realized that my barn coat pockets were getting a little heavy and full.  It was time to clean them out.  Do you want to see what was in just two pockets?  That’s a loaded question.  You really don’t want to see, but you know you are going to look anyway.  It’s like driving by the scene of an accident.  You know you shouldn’t look, but for Pete’s sake, you just can’t stop gawking.

Here’s my Carhartt jacket, the one that my oldest son and myself keep fighting over.  I think that’s why there is so much stuff in the pockets, because the oldest is somewhat of neat freak and a germophobe, and in this condition, the jacket would repulse him.  Yes, I am sneaky, unsharing momma, but those youngins’ just won’t keep their grubby little paws off of my stuff if I don’t turn to these drastic, evil measures of protecting what is rightfully mine.

Except for the paunchy pockets and that it could use a good washing, it looks like an ordinary brown Carhartt barn jacket.  Until one starts poking around in the pockets,  it seems that, indeed, I have stumbled upon the one and only Carhartt jacket with two black holes that never end.  I’m almost afraid to go in any deeper but it must be done.  Suck it up, Cheesychick. This is the test of a true farmer chick. 

“Wait, wait, I am already a true farmer chick momma.  Remember when I pulled a dead garter snake out of the pocket of my second son’s jeans while doing the laundry?  That counts for something, right?  Oh, that reminds me, I never did ask him why there was a dead garter snake in his jean’s pockets.  And was it dead when he shoved the snake in there?”

Okay, well here goes. Wish me luck and say a prayer for me.  I might never be back to blogging again, if the pockets eat my fingers.  I could, of course, type with my toes.  I can pickup items off the floor with my toes, so I reckon I could type too.  One of my many useless talents.

The first item isn’t too alarming.  One would expect me to have a pair of gloves in my pockets.  Except, these aren’t my gloves.  I stole them from my second son who traded for them with his older brother.  My oldest son got them from Sonman.  My oldest was at the barn, hauling hay bales to the cows without any gloves on.  It was cold, his hands were freezing and Sonman felt sorry for him and gave up his own pair of gloves for the oldest twit.  I did not feel the least bit sorry for the said, “twit” because I forewarned the boy not to throw his barn gloves into the laundry until spring, because there is already a two month backlog of laundry and I knew those gloves would never be seen again for another couple of months.  But he threw caution to the wind and dumped them in the laundry pile anyway. Thus, the name,”Twit.”

So, why do I have them?  Oh, I put my gloves in the laundry a couple days ago and I don’t have a clue what the “housekeeper” did with them. I seriously think the washer ate them.  I needed gloves this morning and these were laying on the kitchen table.  Finder’s keepers, losers weepers.   Man, it really sucks to have me as a momma.  By the way, Sonman, these are really nice gloves.  Did you know they are waterproof?

Back to the pockets…

Here’s my seam ripper which has been missing for a couple of months now.  I just found it yesterday, outside in a bush.  I’m not sure why it was outside in a bush, but I’m thinking there is a good reason…somewhere in the minds of all my twits.  I was so happy to find it.  It’s my favorite seam ripper, actually it’s my only seam ripper.  I can’t tell you how many times that I have needed it in the last couple months but I was too cheap to go buy another one.  I knew it would turn up someday, and see, I was right.  I have  had this seam ripper since junior high home economics class, so technically, this seam ripper is an antique.  Mercy, that hurts.

Next up,

 

my wash rags for cleaning up my cow’s udders before milking.  Enough said about that, but I’m just confused where the wash bucket is that goes with them.

See the white specks on my thumb?  That’s flour from making bread this morning, or it could be from yesterday morning or the day before.  Some of that flour is really caked in there on my thumbnail.  Can you say salmonella?  Who knows?  I obviously do not adhere to the same strict hypo allergenic cleaning process that my obsessive, compulsive oldest son subscribes too.  But then, he is a twit.

Here’s two of the five eggs that I got this morning.  Unless, we soon don’t see at least five more of those eggs on a daily basis, you are going to see the actual chickens in my pockets…with no heads or feathers. 

An used shotgun shell that some trespassing hunter carelessly tossed on our posted property because they did not want to properly dispose of it and anyway,it would decompose in like, 3 million years or something like that.  Aughhh, don’t get me started or I’ll really let you know how I feel about that situation.

A votive candle for waxing the rusted runners of my youngins’ sleds.  I was in a hurry and my momma would not let use her kitchen parafin wax.  Talk about a mean grandma.  She doesn’t understand.

This one is a shocker.  Cold, hard cash.  That never happens but I sold a pig farrowing crate yesterday and I pocketed the money before Cranky ever saw it. 

A recipe for some really good chicken dip.  I’m just preparing for the day when there the dead chickens are in my pockets.

Rounding out the pocket are some paper towels, a fishing sinker box, one battery- not sure if it’s good or not, a John Deere button pin, a plastic wing off a toy plane, a paperclip, some hay bits and lint.  But wait there’s more…

 

A cute little 1984 dime.

So, here is everything that was in my two pockets: 2 really nice waterproof gloves, 5 paper towels, 2 tissues, 2 udder washrags, 1 battery, 1 votive candle, $15.10, 1 chicken dip recipe, 1 antique seam ripper, 1 paperclip, 5 eggs, 1 button pin, 1 sinker box, 1 broken wing off of a toy plane, hay bits and lint. Gees, I really need to clean these pockets more often, before someone decides they need to have a pocket intervention.  There is one more item that really has me stumped.  I know what it is but for the life of me, I just can’t figure out why it was in my pocket.  Everything else has a story to it or I can somehow account for the logic of the particular items being in my pocket but not this…

It’s a cranberry.  I am totally perplexed over this one.  And yes, I know for sure that it is a cranberry because I ate it.  Stop gagging, I don’t think it was in my pocket for too long because it wasn’t shriveled up.   Sort of like the 5 second rule on the floor…well, I have the standard 15 day rule in my pocket.  So, why was that cranberry in my pocket? We don’t grow cranberries and I have not made anything with cranberries in since Thanksgiving.  This one really has me stumped.  I guess I’ll chalk it up to one of life’s great pocket mysteries and leave it at that.

But I’m curious…do any of you have this pocket problem or it is just me, who can’t throw anything out for fear of needing it someday?  What’s in your pockets?  I would love to hear your comments, especially if someone out there has something to beat my cranberry.  What’s the weirdest thing you have ever gotten out of your pockets?

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3 Comments

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3 responses to “What’s in your pockets?

  1. Sounds like what I find in the cuffs of my pants when I come in from gardening.

  2. City Slicker

    Remind me never to borrow your jacket when I am back there! I’m with Jake! And, didn’t you learn not to put eggs in your pocket from Riley?

  3. Wow, that was quite an experience. I need to check my pockets. Maybe I will find some cash. Not very likely though. I’ll most likely just get stabbed by a sticker from the yard!

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